


Scary

by Rockatanskies



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, shut the fuck up Jamison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-23 22:46:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12518284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rockatanskies/pseuds/Rockatanskies
Summary: "You get me out of here, and for what? A quick root in a shed? Didn't think you were the type."Junkrat and Roadhog think that a party is the perfect chance to sneak back into Junkertown, right under the Queen's nose; what they didn't expect was for her favourite Kiwi to be skulking around. Will she sell them out, or can they work out a deal? (Here's a hint: it's the latter. What did you expect.)+++++A horrific smutty gift for my dearest friend Krosteb, starring her main man Jamison and her head goblin Scary Kerry.





	Scary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [filthy_rat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/filthy_rat/gifts).



> //If you didn't read the summary, this is shameless PWP starring the trash mouse from Overwatch and my mate's OC. I'm a giver. Also, token cameos from my main man Mako and the Queen of Junkertown, because I'm in love with her. Comment moderation enabled because officialvarrictethras has it enabled on all their fics, which I highly recommend by the way, especially Dance With A Demon, It Comes Off, and anything with Aysunn in it.

"Would you _shut upha_ , can you imagine the queen's face when she sees us?" Junkrat exclaims, hopping unsteadily back and forth, full of nervous energy. "They think they can just.... just throw a party and not invite the guests of honour? We're the whole reason this hole of a town is still standing! I oughta-" His face drops, manic glint fading from his yellow eyes. "Hang on, Roadie, mate, where was I goin' with this again?"

Mako sighs, once, loudly. "Does it matter?"

Junkrat giggles helplessly, seemingly at nothing. "Course it matters! 'S all part of the plan." This last part is said quieter, in as smooth of a voice as he can manage, the one he reserves for his wildlife show presenter impression. Mako's not even sure where he watched one of those. No matter, the flap of metal that serves as part of the wall to Junkertown is pulled up enough to let Jamie shimmy through at least. Mako tilts his head towards the hole.

"Music."

Junkrat's thick eyebrows lower and he seems to slouch more than usual. "Course there's music ya daft git, it's a party!" Junkrat scrambles towards the hole with all the grace of a deer on ice, stopping just short of going through. "I'll find you a way in, alright?" Mako just nods in reply, and then pushes the metal back to roughly the right shape, shaking his head once he's out of Jamie's eyesight.

Alone now, in the dark of the secluded, unused back end of the town, Junkrat laughs to himself; a maniacal, high-pitched giggle as he jumps to his feet with surprising agility for a man with only two limbs. Ducking low, he enters a dark lean-to, which clearly serves as a house of some kind; there's a makeshift bed, made of old tires and painter's dropcloths, a Fosters t-shirt pinned over the window as a shade, and a mini-fridge, branded brazenly with Budweiser logos. Most of those have been scratched out, or burned with cigarettes though. Grin widening, Jamie grabs a bottle from the fridge, limping heavily back to the front door to enjoy it. He snaps the lid off with his prosthetic hand. Surely he could enjoy just one drink before letting Mako in?

Tilting the bottle up between his lips, Jamie enjoys the first sip of something other than dirty water in months.

Turns out, that first sip is also the last, cause with a quiet _bang_ and a tinkle of broken glass, a very confused Jamison Fawkes finds himself holding the neck of a beer bottle and nothing more. Beer soaks into the scraps of shirt he's been left with after his time out of town and his head whips around, looking for the source of whatever projectile smashed his grog.

"-ey?"

Finding another person at last, even Junkrat can't deny the shot of icy fear that goes through him at the sight.

She might only come up to his chest (and that was on a good day), but nothing in Junkertown terrified Jamison half as much as Scary Kerry, the Queen's lapdog herself, pointing a pistol in his direction with a grin that barely reached her eyes. The broken neck of the bottle is dropped, and Junkrat is out on the dirt street with both hands raised.

"Oy, Kerry! Looking well, I see!" 

The short girl scoffs, blows a lock of bright blue hair out of her face. "Quit stalling, Junksy. What're you doin' here?"

"Who, me? All good, Ker. I'm on my hols, mate. Came to see the sights."

"Only sights I see are on my gun 'ere," Kerry replies, gesturing with the weapon in question. 

"Guess I'm lucky you're such a shit shot then, ey? Heh."

Kerry narrows her eyes at Jamie and starts walking forward. At the same time, Junkrat inches backwards until his back hits the cold metal wall and he yelps. She just keeps coming.

"Look, Ker, you help me over or under or through this wall and I'll be on my merry way, it'll be like I was never even here, hey, I didn't even get to finish my-"

The only think Junkrat wasn't finishing now was his sentence as she jammed the butt of her pistol into his windpipe; it took some work, what with her being just shy of five feet tall, but she managed. The crappy walkie-talkie on her shoulder squawked, crackled with static, and then spoke.

"Hey, Kerrigan, where you gone? Baz's cracked out a slab, you're missin' it!"

Kerry holds down the button to talk. "'S all good, your maj. Crack on without me, yeah?"

The speaker crackles again. "Aw, but, Ker-?"

"Look, gizza minute, alright? I'll be along later. Kerrigan out."

The walkie-talkie falls silent and Kerry turns her sights back on her captive audience. "Sure, I'll help you out. On one condition." She juts her head towards the lean-to that Junkrat had been in not five minutes ago. "Get in there, and wait. I'm gonna patrol the area, come back, and we can come to some-" She slides her gaze from Junkrat's eyes, to his lips, over his scrawny torso, and back to meet his own gaze. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing almost comically in his throat. "Agreement."

His voice sounds parched when he speaks again, too quickly. "Yeah, bonza, Kerry, mate. I'll do just that. You, uh, you run along now." He tries a grin, but it is wavering and almost pathetic until she removes her gun and he drops back to his stable, crouched stance. 

"Look forward to it, Junksy." She grins as she turns away from him, confident that he'll do as she says as she walks off, gun raised. He only moves once he's sure she's far enough away.

"Roadie!" Jamie hisses, banging on the wall as quietly as he can, shooting sideways glances at the retreating Kerry as often as he dares. "Roadie! Where are you, ya big lug? It's Kerry, it's fuckin' Scary Kerry, she's-" He bangs again, a little louder this time, and flicks his gaze to Kerry. This time he can't help but notice the way her jeans cling to her thighs and behind, as though she's vaccuum-sealed in there, or sewn in. "She's, uh-" 

His tongue peeks out of the corner of his mouth a little, and his eyes glaze over. He paws at the wall, ineffectually, seemingly forgetting what he's doing. She spins, in a whirl of blue and pink dyed hair, and her dark eyebrows lower in confusion. Jamie shakes his head, gives her a little over-enthusiastic wave, spins on his peg leg, and marches into the lean-to like an obedient puppy. 

So, what's he sposed to do now? He perches on the tire bed, fiddles with a grenade on his bandolier. The music from the party is thumping away, he can feel it in his chest even from this far away, and there's a distant explosion followed by cheering. He peeks out the window, past the t-shirt/shade (which reeks of several things all at once), to see where Kerry's got to. Nowhere to be seen. He slumps back with a little huff. Sure, she was alright-looking... Okay, better than alright. But she was the Queen's favourite, and she'd never shown any interest in Junkrat before? Well, there was that one time before the beatdown at the bar... Or maybe that _caused_ the beatdown at the bar? He never could remember. He lays down, resigned to boredom for now.

It seems like he only nodded off for a couple of seconds, but when he's awoken by a soft, warm weight on his lap it's dark out and he's chilly. Reflexively, he reaches up to inspect whatever's on top of him, and finds smooth skin, warm and marked here and there with scars. The feeling coalesces into arms, which are attached to a torso, of someone who is straddling him. Even in the dim light her hair is luminous, and Junkrat scrambles back on the makeshift bed with a shout.

"Gah! Ker! What you doin'?" 

Kerry laughs in response and settles herself more comfortably. "Waking you up, thought that one was obvious even to you." She stretches, breasts lifting a little under her tank-top as her arms go high. Not that Jamie noticed, at least, if you asked him. "We have a deal to make."

"How long was I out?"

"Fucked if I know, I came back and you were sparko. Mouth open, snoring like thunder; 's a wonder no one caught you already." In response, Junkrat grumbles something unintelligible. "Hey, none of that lip. We gotta talk business."

Junkrat sits up, finally, and looks her dead in the eye. "Awright, you help me get outta Junkertown without your precious Queen findin' out I was ever here. Whaddyawant in return? Money? Ammo? Guns?" He seems to be running out of stuff to list. "Weapons? You ain't having the RIP-Tire, mate, that thing's one of a kind and mine, all mine-" He cuts himself off into a series of shallow, ragged breaths. Kerry raises a hand, cups his pointy jaw, drags a thumb across his cheekbone, mixing engine grease into the soot that coats his face. Junkrat is breathless still.

"Aw, Junksy," she murmurs, leaning in to speak next to his ear. "I thought it was obvious what I wanted in return?" Her other hand slips under his arm to drag across his chest and he gulps, literally gulps.

"Uh, Kerrigan-"

"Yes, Junkrat?"

"What're you doin'?"

Kerrigan pulls back, looks Jamie in the eye with one eyebrow raised. "Attempting to seduce you, duh?"

Junkrat takes her wrists, pulls her hands off him. "But I thought, uh... You and Her Maj? You're a thing?" Kerry shakes her head, rolls her eyes at him for what feels like the hundredth time.

"What I get up to when she's not around is none of her business," she states, almost proudly. "I'm my own woman, last I checked. What she don't know-" Kerry cuts herself off to wrench her arms from Junkrat's grasp and loop them around his neck. "Won't hurt her." 

Stubbornly, Jamie shoves her away again, gentler this time. "You're not interested in _me_ , darl. C'mon, quit jokin' around..." The look in her eyes tells Jamie that she is far from kidding, but she releases him nonetheless.

"Wow, way to let a girl down easy, Junksy. Coulda just said if you didn't wanna." She shakes her head, makes to stand, and finds her retreat stopped by a metal hand on her shoulder.

"Never said that I didn't wanna," Junkrat admits, tone conspiratorial and head bent low to her ear. "Just confused, is all. You get me out of here, and for what? A quick root in a shed? Didn't think you were the type." Kerry laughs in reply, muffling the jovial sound behind her hand, and Jamie has to admit it gives him that good, head-swimming feeling. 

"Aw, Jamie, you can really be as stupid as you look sometimes." 

The blond Junker shrugs. "Aye, fair dinkum." Kerry grins, a wicked and almost humourless thing, then dives forward, more a wildcat pouncing on prey than anything resembling passion. She captures Jamie's lips so swiftly and fiercely that his eyes grow wide, and he lets out a little 'mmph!' of shock against her lips in turn. Her tongue sweeps at the joining of their mouths asking for, no, _demanding_ entrance, and he obliges, parting his lips a little so that he may meet her tongue with his. His eyes finally fall closed and she grabs him by his grenade belts, pulling him closer. They part for air, and his manic giggle begins to build up, bubbling in his throat like a witch's cauldron. She presses a finger to his lips, intimately, almost romantically.

"Shut the fuck up for a minute, wouldya Junksy?"

Moment ruined. But it does quiet him down.

Her head dips lower, pressing kisses to his jaw, to the side of his neck, and he clamps his hand to his own mouth to stifle the giggles and little pants and half-moans that she drags out of him. He can taste her on his lips, salt-sweat and beer and something fruity, as well as the dirt on his glove. As her kisses trail further south so do her hands, draping their way across his chest and stomach, exploring pockmarks and shrapnel scars, muscle and bone. Her fingers alight on a longer, more puckered scar, and she strokes it deftly.

"What's this one then?"

Junkrat moves the hand from his mouth and looks down at her, head lolling lazily on his shoulders like it's suddenly too heavy. "Huh, uh- stab wound."

Her hands trace higher, finding another scar, this one round and mottled. "This one?"

Junkrat squirms under her scrutiny and the light touches of her fingernails. "Ah, huh... Burn, that one. Ker-"

He's cut off again as she trails her nails, a little harder this time, down his stomach, red lines blooming in their wake. He laughs, that manic, uncontrollable laugh, and she slaps a hand over his lips again. His eyes are wide, plaintive. She won't let him crack her that easy.

"Are you _trying_ to get us caught before the fun part?" 

He shakes his head no, remaining silent.

"I swear, you need something to keep that mouth of yours occu-" Kerry stops, and Junkrat can practically see the cartoon lightbulb ping to life above her head. "-Pied."

She stands, swift as an arrow, and begins to shimmy out of those tight jeans that Jamie had admired so much earlier; it takes a lot of wriggling and pulling to get the fabric over her ample hips, but he can't say he doesn't enjoy the view. It's even stunned him into silence, watching those hips shimmy back and forth. Finally, she steps out of the discarded jeans and Junkrat finds himself thanking some nameless deity for the wasteland dweller's practice of going commando.

"See something you like there, Jamie?" Kerry's voice is light and teasing, no hint to the gravitas of what was happening here; Junkrat can hardly believe that he's trading a roll in the sack for an escape route, but hey, he's not gonna complain.

"I might just do," he admits, trying his absolute hardest to sound neutral, even bored. "Why don'tcha c'mere and I'll let you know?" Kerry grins at that, predatory eyes and teeth glinting in the half-light, and then she's clambering onto the bed next to him and his lips are all over her, dropping kisses all across her shoulders, across the cleavage that shows over her tank-top, over her stomach through the thin fabric of her shirt. All the while his hand, the human one, is crawling up her inner thigh again and again and again, always stopping just short of where she needs it. She lets out a frustrated little growl and Jamison's head snaps up, eyebrows dancing suggestively as he takes in her face contorted in frustration.

"Ah, ah, ah, temper temper!" Jamie teases, voice getting higher the more he speaks, before he drops it to an exaggerated stage whisper. "You're the one who said we have to be _quiiiiieeeet_." 

"I'll fuckin' show you quiet, Jamison Fawkes-" she groans, and Junkrat takes pride in the fact that Kerry can't even threaten him properly right now. He's seen how inventive she can be with various household objects and certain anatomical regions in her threats when she's in the right state; can't help but be proud of stopping that.

"Oh darl," he drawls, sliding lower on the bed, positioning himself between her thighs. His hot breath fans her folds with every ragged little gasp. "Betcha won't." 

With a pleased, growled out noise of happiness Jamison delves between the glistening folds of Kerry's sex, tongue first. He is ravenous for her, a mess of lips and teeth and tongue against her most sensitive parts and it's all she can do not to cry out and draw attention, hips bucking wildly up at Jamie's mouth. His metal arm holds her hips down, hard enough to bruise, and it barely registers in Kerry's mind that she'll have to find a way to hide that handprint, but it hardly matters now. Not when the circular ministrations of Junkrat's tongue are sending her reeling like this, chest heaving as she gasps in calming breaths to stop herself from squealing, legs so tense around his head that they tremble. The human hand hooks one leg over his shoulders, giving him better access to her core, then tucks under himself so that he can push two fingers into her slick opening; there is no warning, no gentle probing or tentative test, just a push and then a _stretch_ as Jamie's fingers fill her. She keens desperately, biting down on two fingers to keep herself quiet, but it's just so _difficult_ with his mouth _there_ doing _that_...

Of course he chooses that exact moment to pull away, eyes narrowed and face dripping wet with slick and saliva. "Say my name, darl." His voice is husky, rough with lust, and Kerry nods, anything to get him back down there - he returns happily, tongue twirling and lapping in patterns that Kerry's mind can't follow but her body surely does.

"J-J-Junksy," she gasps, as quietly as she can, and he growls, sucking her clit between his lips til it hurts. She whines. It seems this is the wrong answer. Try again. "Fuck, I dunno.... J... Jamie?" 

This time Junkrat answers with a hummed noise of assent that rumbles through her, sending spikes of pleasure up her body. She repeats that name, a prayer and a mantra, rocking her hips up against his face wantonly, biting her knuckles when she gets too loud. Jamie's tongue picks up the pace, the fingers inside her moving faster as well.

"Faaaaaa-" Kerry's curse trails off into a drawn-out, wordless groan until she gulps down air. "Jamie, Jamie, Jamie... Gonna cum, gonna-" She gasps and practically shoves her whole fist in her mouth to keep quiet as he pushes her hips down harder with that metal hand. His whole head is moving now, desperately chasing her orgasm like a hunting hound, wrist flexing to keep those fingers pumping. His golden eyes flick upwards to meet her gaze and _that_ is what chases her over the edge, tightening her thighs around his head, stomach muscles clenching so hard that she rises up and curls over him despite the press of his prosthetic arm. A soundless cry wracks her body as she comes apart under the demands of his lips and tongue, trembling all over with the force of her orgasm and the effort of keeping quiet. 

She comes back to earth with a bump, falling back on the tire-bed with a heaving chest and a fine sheen of sweat all over. She wrenches off her sweat-drenched shirt in disgust, throwing it to join her jeans.

"Fuckin' Christ, Jamie," she gasps as the man in question slides up the bed, straddling one of her thick thighs. "Where'd you learn to do that?" He shrugs, clearly smug.

"Eh, here and there," he says nonchalantly, earning him a light punch on the arm from the still bemused and dazed Kerrigan. "That good, huh?" All his partner can do is nod weakly in reply. Unexpectedly, to her at least, he curls up next to her, pressing into her side, prosthetic leg tossed casually across her torso.

"Junkrat are you _cuddling_ me?"

He nuzzles into her shoulder. "Jus' until you recover, darl." He smiles, and she can feel his sharp teeth against the soft skin there. 

"Oh, I dunno, I think I'm good-"

"Aw yeah? Then why is it when I do this-" His hand is between her legs as quick as lighting, a finger slipping in between the drenched folds of her sex and swiftly entering her, curling his finger and stroking that come-hither motion. Kerry's reaction is instant, arching up off the bed into his touch, cramming the heel of her palm between her lips to stifle a desperate groan. "-You react like that?" He laughs, a quieter version of his manic giggle, but doesn't stop, just slows his movements the tiniest bit. He's crawled off her now, all attention on the digit slipping in and out of her.

"God, you look gorgeous like this, Ker," he says, voice still full of that husky, lusty quality. He sounds tempting, indulgent, and above all, dangerous. It's a heady mix, and one Kerry would happily listen to on repeat all night. "Best escape plan I ever come up with." If she could, she would argue that it was actually her offering him an escape route, but as it stood Jamie had slipped another finger, and then a third into the velvet heat of her sex, and arguing wasn't top of her list right now. The whole world had converged on the tips of Jamie's fingers as he coaxed whine after gasp after groan from her throat. 

"Bet I could make you cum again, just like this," he says, eyebrows jumping. She scowls at him, and manages a sentence around her bitten hand.

"I dun' take losin' bets."

Junkrat growls and takes that as permission to try; he leaps towards her, never removing his hand, and latches onto one pert nipple with his teeth, making Kerry arch up towards his sweet mouth once more. Between her legs, she fucks herself on his hand, aching for the release that threatened to overwhelm her with just one more thrust, one more curl of his fingers. Her walls fluttered around his fingers and Jamie... stopped. She fought back an urge to scream, to cry even, so hopeless was her situation as he withdrew his hand and laid down beside her again. She rolled towards him, eyes wide and imploring, a whine caught in her throat.

"Hehe, who'd have thought it, eh? The mighty Scary Kerry, come begging to me, lowly ol' Junkrat," he said, a smile on his face and his hands tucked behind his head. "If only the Queen could see us now..."

Kerry had already had enough of that smug smirk, and it had only been there for a few seconds. With a scowl on her face that would have knocked Jamie clean off the face of the earth if looks could kill, she swung a leg over him, settling herself on his lap. He let out a 'hey!' in surprise and grabbed her thighs, the metal hand so much colder than the flesh one that it raised goosebumps all over her.

"You know our deal, Jamie," she says, busily unlacing and unbuckling the front of his tattered shorts beneath herself. "Quick fuck, and I help you out. Time's running out, tick tock tick tock." Freeing his cock at last, she fought back a shudder as it springs free and brushes against her folds. She drags herself up and down it, leaving a trail of slick behind, and Jamison groans, fingers digging into the pliant flesh of her thighs, making new bruises to join the handprint on her hip. 

"Fuck, _fuck_ ," Jamison curses, trying to angle his hips to ease his thick cock into the warmth of her core. "C'mon then, Ker, Kerrigan, Scary, _c'moooon_. I hate waiting!" 

His groan is so endearingly plaintive that she considers dragging the teasing out; on the other hand, every second she wastes teasing him is one where he could get caught, and to be honest, the idea of selling him out to the Queen was getting less attractive by the minute. Raising her hips so that Jamie could align himself with her entrance, Kerry locks eyes with Jamison Fawkes beneath her, and it is here that she keeps her gaze as she plunges down, taking the full length and girth of him in one swoop. The pair both gasp out, and she stills for a moment, letting her body adjust to Jamison's cock buried to the hilt inside her. His hands are on her ass now, squeezing and groping, and he thrusts shallowly upwards earning a quiet moan from Kerry that sends a thrill down his spine, the feeling like electric tinsel. 

"Fuck," he groans, head falling back against the rags that pass for a pillow. "Keep that up and I'm liable to explode, darl." Kerry manages a wink down at him.

"That's the idea, Junksy."

She begins to move, lowering herself forwards to lean on her forearms, hips moving like the ocean, an endless current of undulations and shimmies that soon has Jamie biting onto her shoulder to keep quiet. His hands massage her ass, then move to her hips, bouncing her a little faster on his cock. She nibbles at his earlobe, little puffs of groans escaping every time she draws breath. The tires beneath them creak and squeal, but they barely notice the noise. It isn't long before their rhythm vanishes, merely rocking against each other as fast and hard as they can both take it, each chasing their own release in each other. One of her hands slips down his chest to tweak a nipple, pulling on the little gold barbell shot through it, and his pace from beneath stutters, letting her take the upper hand. Rocking her hips as fast and hard as she can, Kerry's eyes roll back as she feels her pleasure crest, the orgasm tearing through her like a bushfire; all the strength in her arms gives out and she collapses on top of Jamison. He seizes the opportunity.

Wrapping Kerry in his arms, he rolls, leaving him on top, and he ruts against her even harder than before, sending another wave of pleasure crashing through her. Her walls squeeze him, and he knows he won't last much longer. Her hand cups his jaw, admires his face lost in pleasure; the golden eyes squeezed closed, plump lips parted and shiny with slick and spit, a muscle jumping in his jaw. He tilts his head, teases the pad of her thumb with his teeth then soothes the hurt with his tongue. 

"Say my name, Jamie, babe," she begs, wheedles even. He is all too happy to oblige.

"Kerry," he groans, licking his lips afterwards as though trying to taste the honey of her name on them. The next groan is splintered, louder, drawn out. "Fu- Kerrigan!" 

At the very last split second he slips out of her, spilling his seed in hot, sticky spurts all across her body. It even splatters on her face, and she shoves him off, sending him sprawling over the edge of the tire-bed.

" _Fuck_ , Junksy, it's all over me!" Kerry says, wiping down quickly with the filthy cloth on the bed. "And you thought my aim was shite, cor..." 

Junkrat's manic giggle is back as he regards the mess he made. "Can't say I didn't leave an impression, canya?" 

The two lock gazes and in that moment something clicks, something unnameable that has them both grinning like Cheshire cats. 

It is broken by the squeal of static from her walkie talkie, still attached to her jeans on the other side of the room. 

"Hey, Kerrigan! It's Bazza! You gotta come quick, you'll never guess what Her Maj has found, only fuckin... Fuckin _Roadhog_! Found him skulking out in the forward camp, lookin' for a way in I reckon. Get here soon as, mate! Hooroo!"

Kerry looks from the walkie talkie to her bedmate, who is hurriedly stuffing himself back into his shorts. 

"Well, uh, we needed a distraction to get you outta here unnoticed anyway, Junksy..."

He shrugs, retrieves his grenade launcher from the floor. "Eh, I'll go with ya, pick up the big lug," he says, readjusting his bandoliers. "We might have to shoot outta here, so keep your head down. What can I say?" He bats his eyelashes dramatically, voice suddenly that of a lovelorn movie star. "I'm nothin' without my Roadhog." Then the act is gone as he cackles. " _Pluuuuus_ , a shootout just sounds fun. Whaddya say?"

Kerry swings her legs out of the bed and pads over to him, drawing the tall man down for a brief kiss. "I say, you better start running so it at least looks like I've tried to shoot at you."

"Pfft," Jamie replies dismissively. "With your aim? No fear, darl."

In the distance, a loud and familiar choking sounding laugh comes reverberating over the buildings, followed by screaming and the unmistakable sound of a scrap-gun. Jamie and Kerry sigh together, almost good-naturedly.

"Well, let's get this freakshow on the road."

"You said it, darl."


End file.
